


the king

by gotham_ruaidh



Series: Gotham Writes for Imagine Claire & Jamie [116]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 06:06:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18463016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotham_ruaidh/pseuds/gotham_ruaidh
Summary: Imagine Claire and Jamie are talking and they somehow bring up the fact that Claire slept with the king of France and Brianna (and possibly Roger) overhears or comes into the room





	the king

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/184157480133/claire-and-jamie-are-talking-and-they-somehow) on tumblr

_Fraser’s Ridge_

_Autumn 1774_

It was an unseasonably cool night for mid-September. Rather than enjoy the sunset out on the porch of the Big House, Mrs. Bug set out the customary after-dinner pitchers of cider and whisky on the table in the parlor, building and setting a roaring fire in the large hearth.

So as darkness fell, the Frasers/MacKenzies of the Ridge settled in for a quiet evening. Jamie scribbled notes in a ledger, squinting through his spectacles; Claire carefully recorded her recent diagnoses in Dr. Rawlings’ medical book; Roger valiantly attempted to teach Jemmy to read the Bible, before letting him run outside to help Ian check on the animals in the barn; Brianna pored over every word in the month-old copy of the _Wilmington Gazette_ that Fergus had brought back just today, before settling in to the quiet madness of his own cabin full of children.

Companionable silence settled in the room, each ensconced in their own thoughts.

Pages rustled.

The fire crackled.

Quills and charcoal scratched on paper.

Roger sipped his whisky from a clay mug Brianna had made herself. Longing for ice.

He glanced over at his wife, watching the firelight cast alternate glow and shadow on her hair.

Her brow suddenly furrowed.

“What is it?” he asked softly.

“I still can’t believe I’m reading this – you know, in March the British Parliament passed the Intolerable Acts.”

Jamie looked up from his ledger. “I’d think most of their Acts could be considered intolerable, lass.”

She snorted. “I learned about this stuff in school. Parliament passed those Acts to punish the people of Boston for holding the Tea Party. They closed the entire Port!”

“A short-sighted decision, that.” Claire closed her casebook and poured herself a mug of whisky. “It only riles up the populace even more.”

“Exactly,” Bree agreed. “These Acts were – _are_ – seen as violations of natural rights. More fuel to the fire for independence.”

“And more evidence that the promise of history will come to pass,” Roger added softly, glancing at his father-in-law.

“Ye dinna need to tell me,” Jamie replied. “I _have_ lived through this once before. Only ye ken weel – wi’ the three of ye by my side, this time we _will_ be on the side of victory.”

“Wow!”

Claire smiled from behind her whisky. “Find something else, darling?”

Bree’s eyes lit up as she read from the corner of a page. “King Louis of France died back in May! And his successor is Louis the Sixteenth – the one who will be guillotined in the Revolution!”

Roger watched Jamie and Claire carefully – expecting Jamie’s brow to furrow in understandable confusion, and expecting Claire to gently smile at him, and share yet another bit of history from the future.

But she didn’t. And Jamie didn’t, either.

Rather, Claire went strangely pale. Jamie immediately reached out to grab her arm.

“It says here that Louis the Sixteenth was old Louis’ grandson – and jeez, just 20 years old! I can’t imagine – ”

“ _Seas, a leannan_ ,” Roger said softly.

Brianna looked up from her newspaper – and blanched at the sight of her parents.

Claire crossed the room to stand at the window, still clutching her mug of whisky.

Jamie’s knuckles went white as he gripped the arms of his chair – but he stayed seated, watching her.

“Mama?”

Roger watched Claire’s shoulders heave with a great sigh. Mind racing.

“Did ye ever meet the king during your time in Paris, before the Rising?” His voice was gentle, his question factual.

“We did.” Jamie’s eyes bored into Claire’s back. “Several times.”

“I didn’t know that.” Brianna’s voice was quiet, subdued; she reached out a hand, and Roger took it, squeezing.

“Ye ken I was arrested for dueling Jack Randall, in the Bois de Boulogne?”

“I remember you told me, yes.”

Jamie swallowed. Roger shivered at the chill that had settled in the room.

“I would have been in the Bastille for a long time, had Claire no’ petitioned the king for my freedom.”

Brianna squeezed Roger’s hand, willing her historian to keep silent, just for a bit. To give her parents the space they clearly needed.

“I didn’t know about that,” she remarked after a long moment, voice so soft.

Claire finally turned in the window, facing her family. Eyes fixed firmly on Jamie.

“Louis respected me for my medical abilities – I had garnered quite a reputation in Paris as a healer. He also thought I was a witch.”

“La Dame Blanche,” Jamie breathed, reverent.

“So he knew who I was, when I came to petition him.” She pursed her lips. “Of course he wanted something in return.”

Jamie sprung free from his chair, and stood before his wife within seconds. Took her hands in his. Knelt before her – kissing her hands. A supplicant, praying for forgiveness.

“My God,” Roger breathed, mind churning.

Watching as Claire tilted Jamie’s face to meet her gaze. Smiling.

Quietly Brianna stood. Roger followed suit, and together they departed, craving the company of their son.

Claire’s thumb traced the apple of Jamie’s cheek. He kissed the inside of her wrist.

“I love you,” he croaked.

She bent to whisper in his ear.

“And I you. Take me upstairs.”

Later that night, when Mrs. Bug came in to bank the fire, she frowned at the books and papers strewn about so haphazardly. But set it all to rights, and ensured the windows and doors were bolted and locked – keeping the Big House and everyone within it safe from the world.


End file.
